


A New Severus Snape

by wendymarlowe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Post - Deathly Hallows, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1684139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymarlowe/pseuds/wendymarlowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort casts a de-aging curse at Harry. His intention is to return Harry to his infancy, to the age when he survived the killing curse, and make that Avada Kedavra stick this time around. Snape gets in the way of the curse, though, which de-ages him seventeen years. Voldemort is eventually defeated, but Snape is stuck at age twenty. When Hermione and her friends come back to school in the fall to start their seventh year, they're surprised to find that Snape is still de-aged and still stuck at Hogwarts trying to find a cure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To see HP Slash Luv's side of the story, start with her version of "A New Severus Snape" - http://archiveofourown.org/works/1803907.
> 
> This is a fic I've been working on for a while now on ff.net, but I figured it's about time to bring it over here. The format is from a prompt: BrianJustin4Ever (HP Slash Luv from fanfiction dot net) and I are sharing a universe, alternating 100-800-word chapters based on one-word prompts and each other's previous work. We aren't allowed to write anything that doesn't agree with the canon we've already established. We'll try to keep it up until we write ourselves into a corner.
> 
> Each of our stories stands on its own, but they're more fun if you read them alternating one to the other. (Hers goes first!)

Severus Snape gaped. He knew it wasn't a flattering expression on his face, but there was no way to occlude his expression – not after seeing Voldemort just . . . deflate like that. He turned to look behind him, at The Boy Who Lived -

\- who was gaping right back. As was Granger. They were both staring directly at him.

"What?"

Granger recovered first. "That spell - he was aiming for Harry. And you blocked it."

 _Oh really? I didn't see._ He suppressed his mental eye roll. "I did."

Her eyes flickered down over his form, then back up to his face. "It hit you."

Severus took mental stock. He didn't feel any different – he assumed the spell had bounced off his shield –

Potter finally regained his voice. "You're not old anymore!" He immediately blushed. "I mean, that must have been a de-aging spell – you look the same age I am."

Severus ran a hand over his face – and was surprised to find that it did, indeed, feel strange. His skin was smoother. His hair even felt different – same length, but different texture. Could it really . . .

His mind raced ahead, even as he sought to explain. "The Dark Lord said he had a 'surprise' for you, Mr. Potter – I wonder if this was it. A de-aging spell . . . it would solve . . ."

They both watched him with identical uncomprehending faces.

And then the explanation clicked into place. "He was trying to fix the mistake he made seventeen years ago, I assume. If he could revert your age to infancy, the same age you were when you survived the killing curse, it would be . . . poetic justice, I suppose? Possibly also some magical repercussions."

Potter frowned. "But he hit you instead."

"Apparently."

Granger stepped forward, reached up to touch his face, but reconsidered when she saw his expression. "So you're -"

"Around twenty, I should say. For the time being." He fixed them both with his best glare. "Do not make the mistake of assuming anything by it, I warn you. Shall we go tell the rest of the Order the good news?"

"That you're young again?" Merlin, the Potter boy was an idiot.

Granger smacked her friend. "That Voldemort is dead, you twit."

"Oh. Yeah, let's."


	2. Chapter 2

SEVERAL MONTHS LATER

The students' first day back at Hogwarts was rather worse than usual. The school was still scarred from the battle, despite the workers who had been banging around and making it impossible to think straight all summer, but the major damage had been more or less repaired and Headmaster McGonagall had deemed it safe enough.

 _Headmaster._ Would have still been him, if it hadn't been for the technicality of a spell which made him barely older than the students he was teaching. _Old enough to teach, but not old enough to convince the board of directors I'm fit,_ Severus thought bitterly. Not that he really wanted the headmaster job – playing both sides against the middle while in full view of the public eye had been hell – but he didn't have to kowtow to the Dark Lord anymore now and Severus fancied he would have been able to make some positive changes. No longer.

The first of the older students streamed in the door, shivering from the chilly evening air. Severus endeavored to hurry past the worst of the noise and confusion and reach the relative oasis of the staff table in the Great Hall, but he couldn't help but overhear snatches of the conversation around him.

"That's him – can you believe it?"

"Omigod! He's actually kinda cute, now that he's our age!"

"Do you think he's going to keep teaching potions? I won't be able to stop giggling if he tries to glare at us!"

"I know, right? You think it's too late for me to sign up to take NEWT-level potions? I've always wanted a hot teacher!"

Severus bit back a comment – several comments – and stomped past the gaggle of sixth-year girls who were doing the worst of the speculating. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was inane giggling. (To be honest, he admitted to himself, there were a lot of things he couldn't stand – giggling just happened to be rather high on the list.)

It would have been so much easier if his last months' research had been fruitful. Not surprisingly, though, the bulk of the research on aging potions was assuming the witch or wizard wanted to look _younger_ – almost no one had bothered developing theories for how to look _older_. Or to revert to one's natural age. It was a glaring lack of academic precedent, one which made his own research all that much harder. Severus had spent the last several months practically cloistered in his private lab, only ducking out for occasional forays into the library, trying desperately to find a cure for the Dark Lord's curse sometime before the students were due back. He had run out of time. Now his only chance was to-

"Professor Snape?"

Severus looked up, on reflex, and found himself standing in front of the Golden Trio. Two of whom had the same surprised and amused looks on their faces as the rest of the student body. Miss Granger, however, had something more akin to concern on hers. She had been the one who spoke.

"You're . . . teaching again this year?" she asked.

Severus arched a well-practiced eyebrow. "That surprises you?"

"No, I just . . ." The pink in her cheeks looked like it wasn't entirely from the cold. "I'm surprised you're not, you know, _you_ again. I thought you would have been looking for a way to fix it. The spell. Although I suppose maybe-"

"How do you know I haven't been?" he snapped.

She colored even further. "Sorry."

Harry Potter drew up his chin and looked Severus in the eye – something he never would have done when there was still a visible twenty-year age gap between them, Severus noted. "I owe you some serious thanks," he said, quiet but sincere. "I understand how much it cost you to do – well, all of that. You were Dumbledore's man to the last, and we all apologize for doubting you."

"Let us know if there's anything we can do," Ron Weasley added, ever eager to be included.

Severus blinked. That was . . . not what he had expected from The Boy Who Sodding Lived To Be Famous All Over Again. It was remarkably mature for a Potter. But it was appreciated. And deserved an honest response.

"I can't say this is how I wanted things to be," Severus admitted, "but my physical age isn't the worst curse I could be dealing with. I do appreciate the apology. And the offer, unlikely as it may be."

"It stands," Granger's quiet voice added.

And Severus realized he might get some use out of them after all.


	3. Chapter 3

The year's first meal was unsettling. Severus had spent his summer trying to get used to the changes in the Hogwarts staff – Headmaster Dumbledore left the largest hole in the fabric of the Hogwarts faculty, of course, but everyone was a bit broken after the battle. The Battle of Hogwarts, it was called now, all in fancy capitals and everything. Fifty deaths, several of them students.

And most of those were Slytherins. Severus wondered whether the Sorting Hat would take that into account when assigning first-years. Although the empty seats would be filled by the extra seventh-years, the muggle-borns who had been forced out of the school during his own brief stint as headmaster. And of course the Golden Bloody Trio. Would the hat skew more new students Slytherin, to keep the numbers even? Declare Slytherins anathema in its annoying little song and refuse to assign students to him at all? At least Severus was being allowed to stay head of Slytherin house, despite his current age difficulties . . . one normal thing to balance out all the oddities. He caught several students staring at him while they waited for the first-years to arrive, and he was pleased to discover that his reflexive glare seemed to work perfectly well for making them redden and turn away. _Two_ normal things, then – perhaps some things didn't change.

Headmaster McGonagall gave quite a nice speech, Severus had to admit. She didn't dismiss her students' deaths, but neither did she linger overly long on them. She outlined nicely the portions of the castle still undergoing reconstruction (don't go near the old charms classroom, don't try to use the room of requirement, don't take the moving stairway on Tuesdays if you don't want to get left on a ledge four stories up for a week), and the students seemed generally eager to get back into their routines. Severus didn't blame them.

And then the first-years were sorted (with no jibes from the hat and no particular bias, as far as Severus could tell), and food was eaten, and it was time to lead the Slytherins to their commons room and let the first-years sort themselves out. Severus led his unorthodox procession down to the dungeons with as few words as he could. The older students seemed to recognize their professor's preference for quiet, but two of the new first-years were completely oblivious.

"So you're Professor Snape, right?" asked one, a dark-skinned girl with horrifyingly enthusiastic admiration in her face.

Severus nodded, praying she'd take the hint.

"My mum told me about you – said if I got to be in Slytherin like her, you'd be my head of house. You're a war hero, you know!"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Yes, I've been told."

"Did you really save Harry Potter?" the other oblivious first-year asked.

"I couldn't stand the thought of him missing my classes."

"Ooh," the first girl exclaimed, "you're teaching potions again! So you can tell us all about-"

"No," Severus cut her off. "We're here – password is "murtlap." Any first-years who forget the password may end up spending the night on the floor in the hallway – I don't coddle, I don't chat, and I certainly don't anticipate any of you wanting to ask for my help on such a trivial matter as a forgotten password. Do I make myself clear?"

The first-years all nodded. Then the older students took over, herding them through the doorway and helping them claim their beds. Severus was happy to pass them off.

"Professor?" A sixth-year girl held back from the rest. "I was just curious . . ."

Severus frowned. "Yes?"

She looked up at him hopefully. "Are you . . . our age now? I mean, I know you're still teaching and all, but you're really cute and-"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. " _No_ , Miss Mecksworth, I am in no way 'one of you,' in age or otherwise. And I sincerely hope this is the last time I hear any questions in this vein."

But it wouldn't be, and he knew it. Severus needed a drink. And maybe a plan.


	4. Chapter 4

"Miss Granger, would you stay after class please? The rest of you, potions on my desk. I expect three feet on the healing properties of dittany by next week."

Severus pinched the brige of his nose and waited impatiently for the seventh-years to clear out of the classroom. Usually his advanced potions class was one of his favorites – he had weeded out the dunderheads already – but now they were a week into the schoolyear and the older students were already proving the most trying. The first- and second-years still responded to him with the normal mixture of fear and awe, but several of the older ones kept _flirting_ with him. And all the students in between kept laughing at his predicament when they thought he wasn't looking. No amount of scowling, glaring, or scathing rebukes seemed to stop them.

"Sir?"

Severus dropped into his seat and indicated to Hermione to pull up a chair in front of his desk. "I have a problem," he admitted.

"The curse?"

Severus nodded. "I've been scouring the library for months, but I'm no closer to reversing it than I was after the battle. And it's becoming apparent that my current appearance is causing problems with my ability to command the students' respect."

Hermione ducked her head a bit, refusing to look at him. "Not all the students, sir. It's just . . . a rather large change to adjust to."

"I'd noticed," he replied dryly.

Her gaze darted up to his face and then fell back to the wood grain on his desk. "For what it's worth, sir, I think it was very noble of you to take the brunt of the curse like that. Not knowing what it would do. Harry keeps intending to come thank you in person, but he's still intimidated by you."

Severus snorted. "Wonderful. I can intimidate one Gryffindor, but not the rest of the school."

Hermione's head came back up. "Sir -"

"No, although I appreciate the notice. But I asked you to stay because I was hoping you'd be willing to help."

The muscles in her throat jumped. "Me?" she squeaked.

Severus suddenly realized he had no idea how to phrase this – it had been a half-formed notion to start with, and now that he had Miss Granger in front of him, his usual poise had vanished. He settled on honesty. "I've rather hit a wall," he admitted. "And now that the schoolyear has started, I have much less free time to research."

Hermione let out a slow breath. "You want me to help you find a cure for the curse."

Severus arched an eyebrow at her. "You're one of the most gifted students I've ever met, Miss Granger," he said. "Your essays for my class are more thoroughly researched than many academic papers I come across. I get the feeling you're fairly comfortable in the Hogwarts library."

"Yes, I am, but -"

"I'm offering a trade," he interrupted smoothly. "If you will use some of your free time to investigate curses and cures for this – whatever-it-is – that the Dark Lord cast on me, I will grant you two hours a week of private tutoring in whichever subjects you would find the most useful." He allowed himself a small smile. "Not that I believe you need it, Miss Granger, but I'm assuming you'd jump at the chance to do some advanced work."

He tried not to laugh at the sudden glow in her expression. "Whichever topics I like?" she asked.

"I fear my knowledge of divination, muggle studies, and the history of magic may not be sufficient to provide much additional guidance, but I'd be happy to help with potions, defense against the dark arts, arithmancy, charms, or transfigurations. Or any side-projects you may have in mind."

The smile she shot him hit him somewhere in the gut. "I – of course. Yes, absolutely!" She sat up straighter, her eyes glittering with enthusiasm. "When?"

Severus thought a moment. "Would Saturday evenings work for you? I need to be available to my Slytherins immediately after supper, but we could meet in my office from eight to ten each Saturday evening. That shouldn't interfere with your other classes."

Hermione nodded once and offered a hand for a very muggle handshake. Severus took it, bemused, and they shook twice on the deal.

"Very well, then, Miss Granger, I shall see you Saturday. Best get going so you're not late to your next class."

"Thank you, sir." She flashed him a small smile, then gave a little hop and twirled around girlishly. "I can't wait!"


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione appeared in the doorway at precisely eight o'clock. Severus actually had to work to school his features into impassivity at the sight of her – specifically, at the sight of that soft blue dress which accentuated all the ways she was obviously no longer a girl. It wasn't indecent by any means – students had free reign to wear whatever they liked on the weekends – but it felt like an odd choice for a tutoring session. Maybe she had been trying to impress someone in Hogsmeade earlier in the day and didn't have time to change?

Not that he could really ask – asking would indicate that he noticed, and admitting he noticed her appearance was just one step too far given the circumstances. Severus forced a cursory nod and waved toward the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

"Which subject would you like to start with tonight, Miss Granger?"

She flashed him a tiny smile and sat, drawing her bookbag into her lap. "Actually," she said, "I wanted to organize our plan of attack for how to research your curse. I haven't even scratched the surface of what the library has to offer, really, but this way we can avoid duplicating our efforts. What books have you read so far?"

Severus thought. "I'm not sure," he finally admitted. "At first I assumed the counter-curse would be easy to find, so I didn't bother keeping records. And then I was perhaps a bit more scattershot than was prudent. I could name a few titles, but I can't promise I've exhaustively read them all."

Hermione nodded as if that's what she had expected. "Let's start at the beginning and be thorough this time around, then. Proceed alphabetically by author through the obvious choices, perhaps?"

It took a good twenty minutes, but together they hashed out a rough division of labor for their next week's reading. Severus was pleased to discover he hadn't been wrong – Hermione was fastidious in her attention to detail and seemed happy to dedicate her time to helping him research aging curses. _Purely out of academic interest,_ he reminded himself – there was a welcome lack of flirting in her manner - but it was nice to have an ally nonetheless.

"That seems like a good start," she announced when they had covered suitable ground for one evening. "I wish I had something more to contribute."

Severus frowned. "I don't expect you to solve my problem for me," he said slowly. "Especially not in just a few days."

"I know, but . . ." She shot him a self-conscious smile. "I'm an overachiever, I guess."

 _Ah_. Severus leaned back a bit in his chair. This was something he knew a bit about. "Did you know I took eight N.E.W.T.s?" he asked.

Hermione blinked at him in a way which suggested she definitely _hadn't_ known.

"Nobody else in my class took more than six. I got Os in seven of them. Do you know _why_ I took eight?"

She shook her head. "You – liked eight subjects?"

"Wrong." Severus folded his arms over his chest. "I was passionate about potions and the dark arts and passingly interested in some of the others, but I took divination and muggle studies purely because I wanted to prove I was smart enough."

"And you did well."

"That's not the point." Severus leaned forward and let her see the sincerity in his face. "The point was, I lacked focus. I took eight N.E.W.T.s purely because I could, and because I wanted to be able to define myself as an outstanding student. And of course I did well, but I shouldn't have needed N.E.W.T scores to tell me that."

Hermione bit her lip, but met his gaze. "You think I shouldn't be back here," she said.

"Wrong." Severus blinked to clear away the mental image of her worrying her lower lip – _she couldn't mean it to look so_. . . "I think you have an opportunity to focus, and your natural intelligence is standing in your way. What do you want to do with your life, Miss Granger?"

She shifted in her chair. "I . . . don't know. It's all so pointless now that Voldemort is gone, you know?"

Severus raised one eyebrow.

"Er, not that you wouldn't have noticed. You more than anyone." She colored. "But you have a place here, teaching. And I still don't even know what I like. Besides studying."

"You can do that professionally, you know," Severus said.

"I know – but what?"

Severus pointed his wand at her bookbag. "Shall we start with arithmancy?"


	6. Chapter 6

Severus got all the way back to his quarters before realizing he had forgotten the pile of books he had intended to spend the evening researching. He considered backtracking to get them, but clearly his mind was not sufficiently focused enough to concentrate anyway. _When did she suddenly grow up?_

It's not like he had never been pursued by a student before - it seemed like there was about one a year. Even more frequently, when he had first started teaching. It's what had originally driven him to favor his rather severe style of dark teaching robes and prompted him to hone his pointed sneer. The crushes had tapered off in recent memory, though, probably both because of his age and due to the Dark Lord's influence. And - quite possibly - because he had been so busy playing Dumbledore's informant that he hadn't had time to notice.

This felt different, however. Hermione wasn't flirting at all. Wasn't doing anything except treating him like a peer. When had that become such a novel thing, that it was capable of derailing his train of thought so thoroughly whenever she was around? She might be trying to hide it - but no. If she were interested in flirting with him, she'd probably come straight out and say it.

And perhaps he hadn't been entirely honest about his own motivation for the extra tutoring sessions, either. Yes, Miss Granger would undoubtedly be a help. But after years (decades!) of never letting his guard down, it was rather enjoyable to have someone else intelligent to collaborate with. Collaborating at a student level, true - even a significantly advanced student - but it was _something._ It was nice to see that spark of interest in learning come from someone else's head besides his own - Dumbledore had had it, and Minerva used to, but the long war had worn everyone down. It would probably be years before the Hogwarts staff were able to truly lower their guard.

"Severus, a word?"

 _Speak of the devil . . ._ "Minerva," he acknowledged, and waited for her to catch up.

"Just coming from detention?"

"No, that was earlier. I believe some of my first-years were shocked to find out the stories of me showing favoritism to Slytherins weren't as true as they had hoped."

"Oh, I heard about that. Weasley joke candies in the commons room, was it?"

Severus nodded. "Was there something you needed?" he asked.

"Nothing immediate," she replied with a smile. "Just wanted to see how you were faring now that the students are back. I heard you were having a bit of a rough time with your seventh-years."

"That's an understatement." He snorted. "Tell me, Minerva - does this de-aging spell make me look particularly gullible and bubble-headed now? Like I'd welcome a chance to steal a snog in the astronomy tower after dark, perhaps? I swear, if some of these girls start intentionally staying out past curfew with the hopes that I'll catch them in the hallway and assign them private detention, they're sorely mistaken. I have no problems deferring all my detentions to Argus for the foreseeable future."

Minerva's expression turned serious. "Be careful, Severus. I know you're still searching for a counter-curse, but I believe it might be wise to act as if this is a long-term change for now, and take the appropriate precautions."

"Please. I've been in the _Prophet_ enough already for one lifetime - I'm not going to go around snogging my students."

"I know that." She looked like she wanted to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but refrained. "Just - you're good at watching for danger, but from a very different source. Remember how utterly terrible you were at making rational decisions when you were under the influence of raging hormones as a teenager, then double it for all the normal students."

Severus raised one eyebrow. "Are you saying I wasn't normal?"

She sighed quietly. "You were - serious. Intense. And you only had eyes for Lily Evans. You were never a giddy teenager like some."

That . . . was accurate. Severus swallowed and tried not to let the play of memories show on his face. Lily had been amazing, the one perfect thing among many terrible ones . . . He waited for the familiar pang of sorrow for her loss, but there wasn't one. He was sorry she was dead, but it wasn't the all-encompassing despair which had hung over him for his entire adult life. Perhaps this was what it was like to move on.

Severus squared his shoulders and forced himself to nod as if appreciating Minerva's advice. "I'll be aware, and I'll appreciate a heads-up if you happen to hear anything."

"Of course." She flashed him a thin smile. "Good night, Severus."

"Good night."


	7. Chapter 7

He found her wandering the hallways in the dark.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione jumped and whirled around, clearly not having heard Severus's footsteps.

"Professor, I-"

"Out with Mr. Potter well after curfew, I see."

Her lips tensed, just for a moment, but her eyes flicked to a spot a few feet further down the hall.

"Yes, I know he's there under that invisibility cloak. I can smell him panicking." Severus fixed a pointed stare at the blank stretch of wall. "Better run back to your dormitory, Mr. Potter, before I actually _see_ you and am forced to give you the same detention I'm giving Miss Granger."

"Sir?" Hermione's eyes widened.

"Detention, Miss Granger. You may be a prefect, but you're not immune. Walk with me." He stalked past her, making a point of swishing his robe in Harry's direction - and yes, it did brush up against something substantial. Severus ignored it.

Hermione drew up on his other side and matched his pace. He could feel her watching him out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her gaze resolutely on the floor in front of her.

"I apologize," she finally said, and ducked her head. "There was . . . something to check on."

"Does this something have to do with a Miss Daphne Greengrass?"

Her startled look was hilarious.

"I'm not blind, Miss Granger. I've seen Potter staring."

One corner of her mouth twitched upward into a small smile. "He's a bit obvious, isn't he?"

"Quite." Severus repressed his own answering smirk. "And this somehow led you to being out after curfew."

She shrugged. "Harry heard that Daphne was meeting someone in the astronomy tower at midnight."

"And you had plans to, what? Charge in and interrupt before she could lose her virtue?"

Hermione looked like she had just swallowed her tongue.

"As it so happens," Severus continued smoothly, "the astronomy tower is next on my rounds. And as a prefect enabling another student to be out after curfew doesn't merit a _particularly_ onerous detention, I believe we'll just say you're serving your detention by finishing my rounds with me."

She ducked her head again. "I - okay."

They walked next to each other in surprisingly comfortable silence. Hermione kept glancing up at Severus's face every few minutes, when she didn't think he was looking, but she didn't seem to feel the need to chatter. Which was . . . rather nice. Severus managed to keep his gaze to himself tolerably well, until they got to the narrow tower stairs and he was presented with a eyeful of Hermione's derriere as she ascended the steps ahead of him. He wasn't normally the type of man to salivate over a woman's assets - especially when the woman in question was a student and wearing her perfectly normal school robes - but his imagination was temporarily not in line with his conscious mind and he had to keep his eyes firmly on his own feet.

 _This isn't me,_ he grumbled to himself. _I don't do this. I've hardly noticed any of my students like this before - so what's different now?_ It was a difficult question. Certainly Hermione wasn't overtly flirting with him, like so many had in the past ( _and present,_ he thought darkly). And yet. She hadn't protested at all when he invited her company on the rather flimsy premise of an immediate detention. She kept shooting him shy glances. And she seemed to be actually _pleased_ to see him. It was strange, and Severus wasn't entirely sure he liked the feeling.

Daphne Greengrass was standing, alone, in the center of the astronomy room when Severus and Hermione opened the door. She looked up, surprise writ large across her face, but she didn't try to prevaricate. She did eye Hermione with suspicion.

"Meeting someone, Miss Greengrass?" Severus drawled in a practiced voice.

She swallowed hard, her face lit asymmetrically by the moonlight streaming in. Any answer she might have been planning to give was eclipsed by the chiming of the great hall clock, audible faintly through the window. Midnight.

"I take it he isn't coming."

"I . . . sorry," she mumbled. "Can I go now?"

Severus inclined his head. "Report to Filch tomorrow evening for detention," he drawled. "And next time, don't listen to Mr. Zabini when he offers a midnight rendezvous - he has a habit of leaving girls up here to get caught after curfew."

Her eyes widened, but she nodded silently and brushed past them to hurry down the stairs. Severus and Hermione stood for a long moment, watching her go.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered. She paused, then dashed forward to press a shy kiss to the edge of his jaw. "You're nicer than you let on, you know."

Severus stood frozen in place, long after Hermione fled back to her room.


	8. Chapter 8

"Harry wants detention."

Severus blinked. "Pardon?"

"With Daphne." Hermione looked up at him evenly at him from across his desk. "You gave her detention with Filch tonight, and Harry has decided the best way to win her heart is to earn himself a detention too."

The last of the other students finally filed out of the room, and Severus let himself drop heavily into his chair, not caring if Hermione saw his exhaustion. "Why are you telling me this?"

She shrugged. "I thought you ought to know. You could assign him one for anything you want - breathing too loudly, not combing his hair well enough, being related to his father. I know you've thought about it."

 _That_ drew out a reluctant chuckle. "I haven't been particularly discreet, have I?"

Her eyes sparkled.. "I don't blame you - he's antagonized you something awful over the years. Broken a lot of school rules."

"And yet you followed him."

"Harry is . . ." She stared off into space for a moment with a dreamy little look. "Well, he's going to be pretty influential one day, no matter what he chooses to do with his life."

"He doesn't have a plan yet?"

She raised one eyebrow, a perfect imitation of his own favorite sardonic expression. "Professional quidditch player."

"Merlin's beard."

"Agreed."

They stayed there looking at each other, him leaning back in his chair and her standing on the other side of his desk, for far longer than ought to have been comfortable with a student. Finally Severus had to bite the bullet.

"Last night," he said quietly.

Hermione dropped her gaze to the wood grain of the desk. "I . . . I'm sorry for being out so late?"

"Not what I meant."

She shifted her weight and colored a bit. And then adjusted her posture - spine straight, head up, eyes fully open and locked on his. Ready to argue.

"I'm not apologizing, if that's what you're looking for," she declared. "Yes, it was a flimsy excuse to kiss you. And I know you're getting more . . . attention . . . from students than you really want, now that you look closer to our age. But I'm not a normal student - not this year - and I fancied you just as much before the Battle." She reddened more, and Severus suspected she hadn't intended to say quite that much.

"You thought I was spying for Voldemort, before," he pointed out.

"No - _Ron_ thought you were spying for Voldemort. I thought it far more likely you had gotten in over your head and Dumbledore found a way to use that to his advantage."

Severus sighed. "That's . . . reasonably accurate, I suppose."

"I also knew you were quite possibly the brightest person I've ever met, and I've found that fascinating ever since first year."

Severus stared at her. People so rarely saw his intelligence as a _good_ thing. Useful, certainly, or threatening, but rarely _good_. Or "fascinating." Not even when he was a student, a young man, actively hoping to catch someone's eye. Okay, Lily's eye, but he wouldn't have been so blind as to miss if someone else were angling for him. No one had. Even now, the sixth- and seventh-year students were flirting more for the novelty than anything else. Hermione was . . . different.

"Even if I were inclined to reciprocate your interest," he said slowly, "students and faculty aren't exactly encouraged to get into that sort of a personal relationship."

Hermione smiled sweetly. "Which is why it's convenient I don't actually count as a student. I looked it up - the Hogwarts official rules of conduct specify students by year. There's no guideline for post-seventh-year students finishing their schooling after being denied their education on political grounds. We're charting new territory, Professor."

 _Of course she'd have looked it up._ Severus couldn't suppress his reluctant smile. "You're more devious than I anticipated, Miss Granger, I'll give you that. Practically Slytherin."

And she beamed at him. "You wouldn't want me any other way."

Lord, she was _flirting._ No other word for it. And Merlin help him, it was working. Severus schooled his expression into neutrality, primarily so he wouldn't grin back.

"I'm reluctant to dismiss you outright," he said once he was reasonably sure he could talk without giving himself away. "But neither am I agreeing to anything."

She ducked her head. "Of course."

"That said . . ." He studied her. "If I were to catch you out past curfew again this evening - say, in the hallway outside the transfiguration classroom at ten - I might be forced to bring you with me on the rest of my rounds."

"And Harry?"

"Tell him to meet Filch for detention tonight. I'm blaming him for putting you up to this."

She brightened so much she was practically glowing. "Yes, sir. See you tonight."

Severus stayed at his desk, staring off into space, for so long he almost didn't have enough time to prepare for his next class.


	9. Chapter 9

She was there, waiting outside the transfiguration classroom, when he rounded the corner at precisely ten o’clock. Severus raised an eyebrow, letting his not-entirely-feigned surprise show. “You would voluntarily accept detention to spend time in my company?”

Hermione smirked, but her eyes sparkled. “Detention with Filch? No. Sort-of detention with you? Obviously. Which direction are we headed?”

He inclined his head toward the stairs, and she fell into step next to him.

“Speaking of which, I hope Mr. Filch didn’t have any particularly onerous tasks for Harry and Daphne tonight,” she said. “Harry was nervous enough as it is.”

“Perhaps you could suggest to Mr. Potter that acquiring detention might not be the best way to woo a partner.”

“I don’t know - I’m enjoying it so far.” She glanced up at him, a half-smile on her face. “Although I’m not entirely sure what to expect.”

“Miss Granger, are you asking as to my intentions?”

“Not worried about if you’ll be proper,” she answered, nudging his arm playfully with her shoulder. “Was kind of hoping you wouldn’t be, actually. At least not entirely.”

Severus stopped and ducked into an empty classroom, motioning for Hermione to follow. He closed the door with a flick of his wand and turned, the teasing air between them suddenly gone.

 _Damn it, I hate this_. Emotions - sentiment - were never really his strength to start with, but he owed her the truth. “I don’t think I can give you what you want,” he forced himself to admit. “If you’re looking for a . . . physical . . . relationship, you’d be better served seeking out someone who is legitimately your age.”

“If I haven’t really dated any of my classmates by now, don’t you think that might be a clue?” Hermione folded her arms and met his gaze unflinchingly. “A physical relationship would be lovely, but that plus an intellectual relationship would be even better. And I’m not going to get that from Ron, or Harry, or anyone else ‘legitimately my age.’”

Severus frowned. “‘Intellectual relationship?’”

“Talking. About magic, and theory, and - well, anything other than Quidditch, really.” She dropped her arms and took a step closer to him, then another, her eyes locked on his face. “I get it - you don’t feel like you can make the first move. Whether it’s the curse or because you’re a teacher or whatever - it really doesn’t matter.” When she stopped, her lips were mere inches from his. Severus should have backed up, should have turned away, but his feet felt stuck to the floor. _Bloody - she’s going to_ kiss _me, going to-_

“Your turn,” she whispered, her breath ghosting across his skin. “Pretty sure this is as far as my Gryffindor courage takes me.”

It was a blatant move, an appeal to his Slytherin pride, but that didn’t negate its effectiveness. Severus found himself closing the gap before he could think better of it. And then he could think better of it, but didn’t, because her lips were soft and warm and her hand was already fluttering around in the general vicinity of his right collarbone and she was making a quiet moaning sound and Severus’s fingers seemed to have found the nape of her neck of their own volition. Her thick hair spilled down over the back of his hand, shifting slightly as she leaned into the kiss, and suddenly there was much too much space between them and Severus had to rectify that immediately.

He anchored his other arm around her waist and hauled her body against his. The sudden move pulled her off-balance, pressing her breasts into his chest and causing her lips to part in surprise. Severus immediately deepened the kiss, drinking in the startled gasp and very deliberately caressing her lower lip with the flat of his tongue. He was dreadfully out of practice - if occasional stolen snogs in the astronomy tower when he was a student counted as “practice” - but Severus found himself eager to refresh his skills. More than eager. Still conflicted - the _I shouldn’t be doing this_ warning was clanging away loudly somewhere in his brain - but Hermione didn’t seem the least bit concerned and right now, with her hands on him and her mouth pressed against his, and he really couldn’t be arsed to care.

Sometime during the next several seconds, as she tugged his head down a bit lower and insinuated her tongue into his mouth, Severus realized it was entirely possible Hermione Granger was more experienced at this than he was. She was certainly _good_ at it - his thoughts had largely been reduced to sentence fragments the moment she started stalking toward him - but it felt like she had just been waiting for that last little bit of permission before really cutting loose. And that, paradoxically, was what helped him pull back.

“I - we can’t -”

Hermione sighed and let her forehead drop against his chest. “We can. But I understand why you won’t.” Her lips twisted into a wistful smile. “Should I go?”

He was still trying to formulate an answer long after the door had closed behind her.


	10. Chapter 10

“Paris? As in _France?_ ”

“Madame LeFevrier’s laboratory is in Versailles, but it's close. She was most enthusiastic about meeting you.”

Hermione’s eyes locked on the scroll sitting on Severus’s desk between them. Her fingers twitched, like she longed to read it herself, but she kept her stiff-backed posture and didn’t move. The silence stretch for almost a minute. Severus knew the technique well - he used it often to throw students off-balance - but he was still almost ready to apologize for having upset her when she finally spoke.

“This would be . . . instead of finishing my year. Here at Hogwarts.” She extended one finger and ran it over the broken wax seal.

“Yes.”

“And you told her what, exactly?”

“Merely that I knew the perfect apprentice for her arithmancy research, if you were both amenable. She’s not as mobile as she used to be, but she has yet to find a student up to her exacting standards at Beauxbatons. Tracing ley lines requires an incredible amount of precision and perseverance, both of which are qualities rarely found in younger witches and wizards.”

Hermione sucked in a deep breath. “Are you asking me to leave Hogwarts because I kissed you?” Her gaze was focused on his face, eyes wide -

\- and all of a sudden Severus was painfully aware that his ambivalent mask, the one he’d always counted on to get him through his time as a Death Eater, was no longer going to help him. The desk between them, the physical space, was too much. If he retreated now . . .

“Hermione.”

“I didn’t mean to . . . I’m sorry if I-”

“Hermione.” Severus stood, coming around to her side of the desk, and pulled her up until she was leaning into him and he could thread his arm between her long hair and her shoulderblades. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quietly.

“But you want me gone.” She pressed her cheek against his chest, and it was all Severus could do not to crush her in a protective hug.

“I want you here,” he murmured into her hair. “I don’t . . . I’m not good at this, Hermione. I’ve never had the chance to even try. But we can’t do this, not here, not at Hogwarts. Even if it’s not technically against the rules, it still feels that way. I’m a professor and you’re a student whether we like it or not. If you were in France, it would be different.”

“If I were in France, I would be gone.”

“Two or three apparitions away, nothing more. And Madame LeFevrier is quite open to you coming back to visit as frequently as you wish.”

“I wouldn’t be able to finish my N.E.W.Ts.”

“Do you really need the classes?” Severus tucked a knuckle under her chin, drawing her head up so he could see her face. “You could take the N.E.W.Ts today with no trouble whatsoever, and we both know it.”

Hermione closed her eyes, silently acknowledging the touch as a caress. “I don’t like leaving,” she whispered.

 _Merlin’s balls._ “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Severus answered as neutrally as possible, given how fast his heart was beating against her cheek. “It’s an option, nothing more.”

“But it would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to study arithmancy with a world-famous witch.”

“Yes.”

“And we could still . . . correspond, at least?”

Severus smiled against her temple. “I promise I’ll be on your doorstep at precisely eight every Saturday night for our study session. If you still want me to.”

Hermione drew back and looked up at him, then, although she didn’t pull away far enough to make him break his hold on her shoulders. “Would it make you happy?” she asked quietly.

 _I’d almost forgotten what happy felt like._ Severus considered his answer for as long as he dared, then realized _to hell with it_ and ducked his head to steal a quick kiss. “It would,” he admitted. “It scares me, sometimes, how much I’ve allowed my emotions to depend on anything other than my own actions. I think . . . you could be a new start for me. Whether or not we ever reverse this de-aging curse.”

Her lips parted slightly, revealing a tiny flash of tongue, and Severus was powerless to resist the urge to kiss her again. Longer, this time, although no less gentle. A promise.

“Yes.” Hermione broke the kiss to beam up at him. “My friends aren’t going to understand, but . . . yes. It’s about time I started doing things just because I want to, and right now I want to snog you senseless for coming up with such a perfect solution.”

Severus blinked. It meant he was caught off-guard when her hand snaked around to tug at the back of his neck and tip him forward, into her waiting embrace.

They both very nearly missed Madame LeFevrier’s face in the fireplace when she put through her floo call several minutes later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO sorry to make you all wait so long for the final chapter! Once again, I'm a fraction over my 800-word limit, but I'm hoping it's close enough :-)


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